


Goodnight, Central City

by Swashbuckler



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Behind the Scenes, Canonical Character Death Reference, Frostbite, Gen, Hospitals, Injury, Late at Night, Married Couple, Melancholy, Mental Health Issues, Metahumans, People Watching, Slice of Life, Smoking, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swashbuckler/pseuds/Swashbuckler
Summary: Central City, home of Speedsters, is not always so fast paced. Sometimes the nights are slow and quiet.
Relationships: Ralph Dibny/Sue Dibny, Roscoe Dillon/Lisa Snart
Comments: 15
Kudos: 13





	Goodnight, Central City

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic I started a week or so ago; it was another "lying in bed and suddenly had an idea I had to get down very quickly" moment. Not gonna lie, I quite like those.
> 
> Occurs in a vaguely Johns/pre-Johns-era shaped time.

Central City, home of Speedsters, is not always so fast paced. Sometimes the nights are slow and quiet.

* * *

Sue Dibny slept soundly, comfortable and cozy beside her husband, his arms wrapped round and round and round her in a snug embrace. Ralph stirred briefly behind her, and instinctively snuggled even closer, his nose twitching against his wife's ear as he drifted off again.

* * *

Across town, Captain Cold dozed in front of the TV, four beers deep into the day's sporting highlights. Len's head lolled onto his shoulder, beer bottle slowly slipping from his slack hold as began to snore, not enough beer left in the bottle to spill.

* * *

Mick Rory hovered outside a late-night diner, hands in his pockets as he waited for the last waitress to lock up. She tucked her purse under her coat and smiled at him, and pointed to the street. Mick nodded and they began to walk together. There was a bit of chatter about the days' customers here, a few friendly personal questions there. Mick knew she knew who he was, but she never asked about his work, even if he had an inkling she always wanted to; she'd seen him enough times with the others in the diner, after all. They weren't exactly hard to miss.

When they reached her building, she hurried up the steps and unlocked the front door. She turned and gave him a wave and mouthed _thank you_. Mick gave her a warm smile back, waving as she disappeared inside.

* * *

Axel sat on the curb outside the twenty-four hour convenience store far away from his parents' nice house in suburbia and watched the cars drive by. He took a slurp of something obnoxious, sugary and sour from the can sat beside him, and gave the old mustang that drove past an approving seven out of ten in his head as he opened another candy bar.

* * *

On the outskirts of the city in a vast and empty parking lot, Lashawn Baez sped up, concentrated, and--

_\--pop--_

\--she landed smoothly, gliding to a halt on the other side of the lot. She spun, took a deep breath and aimed for the other side of the lot, sped up into a race and--

_**\--bang.** _

Her skates skittered as they hit the tarmac and she swerved and scrambled, twisting and--

She landed in a heap, her elbow and knee guards protecting her from the worst scrapes. Lashawn heaved in a steadying breath and glanced back at the place where she'd vanished, the tarmac tagged with smoke and scorch marks.

She swallowed back the lump in her throat, and got shakily to her feet, and tried again.

* * *

Jerrie lay in bed and listened to the last of the house staff retiring for the night. She then waited a full five minutes before climbing out of bed.

The door of her room clicked as she opened it, small, freckled face peering out at the dim hallway. No one. It was okay. She hurried down the grand hallway to the large, gold-framed mirror at the end of the hall. She knocked on the glass and sat down on the plush hallway carpet and waited. 

They always used to come through here to see her. They never seemed to come this way anymore. When she had asked why, they had all looked so sad, and Hartley had told her that they had lost one of their friends and couldn't travel by the mirrors anymore. 

But they always came this way. They always did. So maybe they still would. 

* * *

Evan tipped his head back against the wall of the club and blew a plume of cigarette smoke into the night air. He took another slow drag, watching as a few people filtered past the bouncer and down into the bar, its heady bass pulsing up through the basement below. 

A drip of water splashed onto his cheek, just below his eye. The sky above the city was swarming with clouds that had begun to break. 

Evan rolled his eyes, took a final breath of smoke, and stubbed it out beneath his boot. He flashed the smudged stamp on the back of his hand to the bouncer who nodded and Evan disappeared back into the club.

* * *

It hadn't been the best day. Frankie tapped her phone against her knee, listening to the downpour outside, debating whether or not it was worth--

She dropped her phone beside her bed. 

_Forget it. It's fine._

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for seventeen minutes before snatching her phone back from her nightstand. She sat up in bed, tapped out a quick text and--

_There._

At least she'd asked. He always said she should.

* * *

Albert was swaddled in his dressing gown, curled in on himself under the singular lamp in his living room, deeply engrossed in his book. He did not see the text light up his phone. He would, hours later, and he would call his charge over breakfast and ensure she was safe and well before retiring to bed late into the morning. But for now, another chapter.

* * *

Machines beeped quietly around Lisa as she lay asleep in the hospital bed. She was pallid, her closed eyes encircled with eerie shadows of too-stark veins. Her lips, usually painted a glamorous red, were stained a dark blueish purple. Against her pale cheeks, raw pink lines had been etched - the last trace of the ice, and the lackey, that had attacked her.

She looked like a ghost, and yet, even asleep, her heart beat like a vengeful one.

When the nurse came in to check on her, he found a dark-haired man sat statuesque beside her bed. He'd just began to tell him that, _sorry, visiting time ended hours ago, did no one tell you?_ when he had to hastily excuse himself from the room as he was overcome with nausea, the room spinning before his eyes.

Roscoe stroked his thumb over Lisa's frostbitten knuckles and eventually the doctors stopped trying to make him leave.

* * *

Julie was ripped from sleep by the wailing that tore through the flat. She stumbled, bleary-eyed, out of bed to the crib on the other side of her bedroom. 

She scooped her son out of his cot with a tired croon and cuddled him to her shoulder, whispering a stream of soft hushes against the crown of his head.

_Hey, hey, it's okay, baby, c'mon,_ she soothed as Josh bawled. Julie bounced on her toes, rubbing her son's back. _Shh shh shh..._

Slowly, eventually, Josh's cries began to soften, his wails soothed to agitated little snuffles against her chest. Julie patted his back with her fingertips, swaying gently as Josh fell quiet, and outside, at last, the rain began to ease.


End file.
